Here we are now, near the end of a very beautiful thing, or something like that.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * *
The room is so quiet. Of course, it wouldn't be anything else given an option. Aya isn't Mr. Talkative even when he IS conscious. I wish he'd open his eyes, just for a moment, so I could verify in my mind that he's not dead instead of sleeping. The temporary IV Omi has dripping fluids back into his body hangs from one of the wall fixtures, a casually draped appendage.
For a while, I was continuously brushing at his hair, sitting on the edge of the bed and then moving, thumping around the room, selfishly hoping I could wake him by 'accident'. When that failed, I just settled down in one of those fake armchairs hotels always stock. Miniature armchairs. His breathing is so shallow, I have to sit and make sure he doesn't stop all together.
The doorknob rattles unsuccessfully for a few moments. "Youji, let me in." Omi whispers softly against the door itself. I don't want to get up to let him in. He'll distract me; Aya could die while I'm not looking.
"Youji?" Insistent.
Growling under my breath, I pad over to the door, open it up for him. "There's a key card on the table over there, you're free to take it, I have another copy, and Aya certainly won't be needing it." I let out a bitter laugh. I'm starting to wonder if I'm coming slightly unhinged.
"I just wanted to make sure that everything was okay over here." He presses his wrist to Aya's forehead. Violet eyes blink open. Irrational jealousy again. He'll wake up for Omi, but not for me.
Mumbling sleepily, Aya tries to sit up, breath hissing out as he moves his leg.
"No. You can't get up yet." Omi pushes down on his chest. Aya complies, face still tight with pain. I hover in the background, angry and jealous as hell.
"Where's Youji?" Aya finally asks, looking around with unfocused eyes. The knot in the pit of my stomach loosens a bit.
Omi motions me back with one hand. "He's at the foot of the bed. I need to make sure you're still doing okay though. He'll be over in a moment." He talks softly and soothingly like he would an injured animal, more tone than substance. Aya glares at him.
The bandages covering his side and leg are still white, always a good sign in my mind. Omi, carefully peels back the edge, ignoring Aya's nakedness. "No sign of infection. If you keep up with antibiotics and keep it clean, you should be fine. You did lose a lot of blood though, and should stay in bed for a suitable length of time." Omi doesn't list a specific amount of time, probably so Aya can't hold him to it later.
"Is it going to heal cleanly?" Aya curiously peers down, trying to see the wound himself. "I can't afford to limp."
"I don't know. I cannot make you any promises yet. We're all young, we heal easily. Some important muscles were torn, but they may heal without a problem. Just make sure you rest and stay in bed." He's still using a bit of the sing-song voice reserved for those slow of wit. That could mean bad news for Aya. Omi's been known to keep the truth to himself occasionally when he felt it served interests better.
He pats Aya on the shoulder, standing up. "Get more sleep." As the boy brushes past me, he quietly asks if I'd like him and Ken to sleep in the second bed tonight, for company. I shake my head, returning to the uncomfortable chair, to keep watch over Aya.
"Did he tell you something I don't know?" Aya asks me faintly, fingering the gauze wrapping around the needle inserted into his inside elbow.
"Nothing. If something is wrong, and I'm not saying it is, then he certainly wouldn't tell me. I'd be the first person to let you know the truth." I rest my palm on his forehead. It's a touch clammy if anything. After dragging another blanket off of the second bed and draping it over Aya, I settle back down into the miniature armchair.
"You angry with me?" His voice is muggy.
"Why the hell would I be angry with you?" I lean forward.
"For drugging you and taking away your shot at revenge." He tells me, using that same voice Omi did.
Oh. That seems like eons ago, Aya being injured is the present; anything else was days ago. Years ago. "No." I finally answer. "Not right now. I'm too busy being worried and hysterical to be angry at you." I grasp his outstretched hand, scooting the chair closer to the bed.
"How are you feeling? Do you need anything?" I switch into nurse mode without a thought.
"Omi gave me something. It doesn't hurt nearly as much as it should. I'd appreciate some water right now." He closes his eyes, relaxing slightly.
I dash off to get him some tap water in one of the plastic hotel cups. When I step back into the room, Aya's managed to ease himself partially upright. The effort of sitting looks to be wearing upon him already. His hands shake so badly I wind up having to hold the cup to his mouth.
When Aya makes motions towards an attempt at standing and/or removing the IV I forcibly keep him in bed. "Omi says you're not to get up. You'll only damage your leg, and LEAVE that alone." I swat his meddling fingers away.
"So I'm supposed to do what? Unless you're going to fetch me a motherfucking bed pan." He growls, pushing back.
That's my cue to turn a tomato-like shade of red. Damn. Okay, so maybe he can't stay in bed twenty-four hours a day. I help him hobble to the bathroom, holding up the saline bag, making sure he doesn't put any weight on his injured side, then stand guard outside the door, somehow or another having developed a sense of decency within the past few hours.
I hear him retching again behind the closed door, feel guilty, but respect his privacy. Gods, these have certainly been a great past few days as far as the art of reexamining past meals is concerned. Maybe I should go visit Ken and Omi and take a few more tallies if at all possible.
The bathroom door swings back open after a few moments with Aya putting all his weight upon the wooden frame. He doesn't refuse my help, probably having finally realized that resistance is futile. He honestly cannot stand on his own at this moment.
"If you've just thrown up all the painkillers Omi gave you, I'm thinking you might want me to go get some more for you." I settle him back down onto the mattress, worried by the waxy-pale face in front of me.
"Painkillers there." He points to the saline drip one more time, sagging down onto the bed, too tired to even pull up the covers. I tuck him in, sitting back down to watch him sleep again.
"What did he look like, before he died? What did Ko-ishi look like?" I try to get one more answer out of Aya before he drifts back into the merry land of unconsciousness.
"He was smiling through the blood pouring from his mouth." Aya leaves me alone with my thoughts.
I'll bet he was smiling, the bastard. Thinking that he'd triumph over the situation until that very last moment. I slam my hand down on the arm rest of the chair, regretting the one chance I lost to have seen it, to have danced on his corpse and come home drenched in his blood.
Aya's face twists in his sleep, hand clenching and unclenching on the pillow next to him. I carefully climb over him, slipping under the covers, oh-so-carefully lying next to him. He's going to stick his fist clear through my torso if I accidentally bump his leg. And I'd be willing to bet large sums of money that he's physically capable of doing so.
The time passes slowly. I'm afraid to add a few more hours to the new sleep record I'm working on. The worry is still there, that he'll cease breathing as soon as I close my eyes, and I won't notice until it's too late. He lost so much blood. He could still die. Fuck. I don't even know how we're going to clean up that blood mess all over the bathroom. Blood stains. The towels, I'm sure it's on the rug from his clothes, on the tile, the bathmat, the bed. Gods. I rest my forehead against his cheekbone, eyes watching the faint rising and falling of his chest.
Full-blown afternoon arrives, the barest hints of light showing against the curtains. I still haven't slept. I probably feel just about as horrible as I look now, the poorly chosen tranquilizers still fucking with my head just a bit. When I'm finally dozing off with my chin resting on Aya's shoulder, that goddamned door decides to open up again. They have the WORST timing.
"It's just me." Omi peeps around the corner, doing his "cute" look, so I won't be irked. "Ken and I are heading out. The police wanted an official report from us."
"About killing Ko-ishi?" I blink, utterly confused and none-too-awake.
"No, about the burning of second house." Omi shakes his head and smiles pitying at me, only half-way joking. "Ken and I are going to look at readily available housing properties, get us set up somewhere local again. Aya's going to be cranky today, I'm guessing, but he still can't get out of bed, no matter what excuse he may come up with."
"What if he has to use the bathroom?" I ask wryly.
That gives him a pause for thought. "Well, that's the exception, I guess." He waves. "Anyway, I'll let you know when we get back! Don't you go dying on me!" He disappears from the doorframe. He doesn't realize how unfunny that is right now. Unless Aya isn't going to die, in which case he'd feel justified saying horrible things like that. I decide to take it all as a good sign, letting myself fall asleep for real this time.
Hours later I wake again, still curled up against Aya's side. I'm still alive, so I must not have moved much in my sleep. His fingers are curled loosely in my disheveled hair. He watches me through half-closed eyes.
"How are you feeling?" I nuzzle his temple, sleepy and warm and content.
"I've been better." He shifts a bit, resettles his leg. "There's a note and a big plastic basin on the other bed." He informs me.
"And let me guess, you're being good for once and staying put, but overcome with curiosity by this point, you want me to go and get it?"
Grumbing at the loss of heat and peace, I crawl to the end of the bed so as not to climb over Aya and jostle any healing parts. He holds a hand out for the note, but I ignore him and read it first.
"Aya's probably going to start ranting about wanting a shower or a bath sometime today. The answer to that is 'No'. He can't get his leg wet yet; I want the bandages to stay in place unless he bleeds through them, in which case you should simply call an ambulance. If he's really going to kick up a fuss, we went out and bought a big basin to put warm water in, and a nice big sponge. Don't have too much fun."
Gee. Giving Aya a sponge bath... Fun? What would give them an idea like that?
"What does it say?" He growls at me, sitting upright he's so ticked off.
I reach into the plastic tub, pushing aside a bottle of massage oil so I can pull out the tan sponge, squeezing the round object in his face. "Ken and Omi want me to give you a sponge bath. They probably set up cameras or something while we were sleeping." I cheerfully assume.
That manages to wrench a rusty chuckle out of him. "What does it really say?" He asks.
"I just told you. They want me to give you a sponge bath." I'm laughing at Aya's disgruntled expression by this point.
"Why can't a take a regular bath?"
"You can't get your leg wet, and you're not allowed to take the bandage off." Always being one to comply and, as usual, run by my overactive libido, I happily sashay off to put the "Do Not Disturb" sign on our doorknob.
Aya is still willing a painful death upon me with his eyes when I set the large basin of steaming water on the end table next to him.
"If you'd go off somewhere else, I'm perfectly capable of doing this by myself. You don't have to play over-enthusiastic nursemaid." He crosses his arms.
"Aww, is Aya... embarrassed?" I tease him, leaning over to brush a kiss across his tensed mouth.
"I'm perfectly capable of wiping down my own body." He sighs, determined to make things as unpleasant as he possibly can.
"Oh, don't be such a spoilsport, Aya. I can identify at least two-dozen people by first and last name that would willingly to give up years of their lives to get a sponge bath from yours truly. What makes you think you're so different?"
"I possess morals and a working mind." He tilts his head to the side, instinctively knowing he's made yet another match point. I splutter, but honestly have no reply to that shot.
"Being witty isn't going to deter me. You're the one with the bum leg, I'm the one with the sponge." I give him my standard predatory grin. He sighs and kicks the blanket away, still clad in nothing but the white gauze protecting his thigh.
"Do your worst." He spreads his arms out, closes his eyes in a satirical position of submission. He's watching me from underneath mostly closed eyelids, pretending he's not. The brat, he's just being difficult.
I dip the bath sponge in the warm water, squeezing out excess moisture, slowly rubbing soothing circles over Aya's tensed stomach, getting the last traces of dried blood away from the skin surrounding his wounds. He relaxes as the textured material massages away surface complaints, along with old sweat and blood.
He's purring within moments, twisting to give me better access to his skin. Because he expects me to do the opposite, I make a mental hands-off rule and stick to it like one truly inspired. That doesn't mean I still can't be evil. His nipples harden instantaneously as I sweep over them, wanting to take them into my mouth, to taste the water on his skin, feel that puckered flesh against my tongue. I refrain. Never let it be said that I lack will power.
Hazy eyes follow my hand with rapt concentration as I move to get more water for the sponge. He's enjoying this at least, one step in the right direction. I continue up, smoothing over his shoulders, helping him sit partially upright, cleaning the smooth line of his neck. He leans into me, tilting his face up for a kiss. His eyes flutter closed, lips water-damp.
"Why did you pull away?" He reaches out for a handful of my hair; I sit back out of range.
"Because, I'm trying to get you clean. That's the fun of it all. Now be a good lad and hold still."
"I know what this will lead to. I'm only going to get sweaty and dirty again anyway. Better to get it over with." He sounds almost petulant, trying not to. I mentally thank Omi and Ken for being manipulative little bastards and leaving me this new form of amusement. If there's one thing that's more fun than actually having sex with Aya, it's unsettling him and confusing him to no ends.
I only break the hushed silence once, to tell him to carefully roll over. Balefully, he cooperates, carefully rearranging his bum leg. I think he's almost regretting the neutral atmosphere. I guess he must have hormones of his own too. He must be chilled as the water dries in the cool air of the room, but he doesn't complain. He usually doesn't. The muted light makes his skin shine like polished metal, beaded drops decorating the line of his spine.
"You want a back rub?" I ask, whispering in his ear. He looks over his shoulder at me, one cheek resting against the pillow.
"In return for what? You're up to something, I've never known you to turn down an offer for sex. What is it you think you'll get from me instead?"
Skepticism. For me? Why Aya, what reason could there ever be to distrust any of MY motives?
"Nothing. I just thought you might like one after being battered around one night and then spending the next remaining day in bed." I lift one shoulder in a passive shrug. "If you're not interested though..." Five. Four. Three. Two. One.
"No. I'd be interested." He remains stretched out on his stomach, skin mostly dry now. "Just as long as you don't try to use it as some sort of favor fodder you can use to get back at me for drugging you and leaving you all alone in a hotel." Even beneath the complacency of the painkillers he's floating along the influence of, the humor glints through.
"I could care less about that." And I really could care less. There are more important things, when it comes down to it.
I carefully straddle the backs of his thighs, making sure no weight rests on his wounded thigh, balancing myself, feeling ungainly as always. He lets out a relieved breath as it becomes obvious I'm not going to ignite the burning pains in his leg again.
Mentally laughing at their conniving ways, I uncap the bottle of massage oil Ken and Omi left for us. You'd almost think they were trying to force a little kiss-and-make-up session. I'm assuming Omi came up with the meddlesome idea; it's more suited to the inner workings of his mind, not that he'd be happy if I went and wound up accidentally ripping Aya's stitches open by getting too ardent with him.
The muscles under my hands are tense, and he stifles soft breathy words of relief against the scratchy material of the pillowcase. There are scars I'd never noticed until this very moment as the faint lines show silver against his luminescent skin. I try not to go protective all of a sudden. He's better at taking care of himself than I will ever be.
I swing my weight off his body, kneeling on the bed next to his sprawled out body. He shifts to watch me as I lean down and brush my lips across one of the more prominent scars, a thick, pale, thumb-length's worth of old pain. A knife wound, I even remember the circumstances surrounding the mishap.
"You have far too many marks on your skin." I nuzzle his ear; kiss the side of his neck, judging him suitably pacified by my hands. He grudgingly rolls over, a little groggy from remaining stationary.
"When my side and leg heal up I'll have a few more. To live a lucrative life, one has to take risks. Sometimes risks leave scars. That's just how things turn out." He reaches out and pokes my torso, runs a cool finger along the old bullet scar that runs just under my left nipple. "It's not as if you don't have your share fair." He meets my eyes, both of us feeling nauseatingly mortal today. It's not fun being reminded that life really can take what it has so freely and at times not-so-freely given.
I grab his hand before he can lower to his side again, bring it up to my lips, and kiss his cold fingertips. He sighs and tilts his chin upwards, cups my face with his dry palm. After a silence-laden moment Aya speaks.
"You know, I'm the wounded one here. If you want a kiss you're going to have to be the one to move. I'm certainly not sitting up now." He almost smiles for a moment, eyes a little too needy for my general tastes. I lean over anyway. We're all a little desperate right now, how can I blame him when I'm probably worse than he is.
He relaxes back into the indent his body has made in the mattress, tongue sweeping along my lower lip. I part my lips, holding back on any actions until he makes the next move. Trembling, his long fingers cup the back of my skull. That same old shivery feeling I'm getting used to, as I try to meld my mouth to his, make us of one body. It's been a long time, years, since I've been able to connect like this. I plan on making the best of it.
His hand slides up my ribs, almost icy enough to detract from the pleasure of physical contact. I swear I'm going to buy him a fucking pair of gloves the next time I actually have money in my possession. Hell, I'd buy him whatever he wanted if he'd just keep kissing me like this, actually participating instead of letting things wash over him.
My knee comes down between his legs, sliding forward to press the length of my thigh up against his erection. An almost painful tug on my hair. "Mm, be careful, that's attached you know." He pushes himself partially upright with one elbow, tugging my head back again, running the tip of his tongue down the column of my throat.
I rub myself against his left thigh, unable to help myself as he gnaws on my neck, the wet mouth on my skin followed by the scraping of teeth. "Gods, right there." I tilt my head to the side, his grip on my hair somewhat loosened, trying to get him to land his mouth at just the right spot. "Umm, don't stop. I'll buy you a fucking diamond encrusted katana if that's what it takes." I know I'm going to have a plethora of red circles on my neck tomorrow, but I can't honestly give a shit.
I run a hand down his smooth, clean chest, heading lower. He grabs my wrist, pulling back. "This may not exactly be good timing, unless you want to bring Omi in to put new bandages on my leg when we're through. Not exactly in the best of shape right now, as much as I despise admitting it."
"So?" I lift one shoulder, shifting Aya grip until I'm the one holding onto his arm. I brush my lips across his palm. "So, you just lie there, and I'll do all the work."
"I don't see how that will work." He leans away from my touch. Gods be damned. Now he's being difficult again. He's trying to drive me nuts, isn't he? There goes the atmosphere.
"Simple. You lie there and trust me." I push him back down, leaning down for an all-consuming kiss. He sighs into my mouth but responds hesitantly as I kick off the last of my clothes. I lean my weight onto my elbows as I swing one leg over his hips. Comprehension seems to dawn in his opened eyes.
"Youji, you're going-" I put a hand over his mouth.
"Look, I'm quite horny right now, and so are you. If you're going to be difficult and uncooperative, I may be forced to go and find Ken and Omi and beat them senseless for setting up this whole situation to begin with. If we do it this way you won't have to move much and you won't tear any stitches."
He pushes my hand away from his face. "I was GOING to say that you might want to use that massage oil as an impromptu lubricant." He frowns at me, obviously annoyed by my overeager interruptions. He stretches and tips the bottle until his grasping fingers can snatch it up off the bedside table. He uncaps it himself, stretches up for an almost forceful kiss while he occupies his hands, sliding them down along my spine.
I tense up as one slick finger circles my asshole, just rubbing the puckered flesh. "Why don't you just get it over with?" My voice is slightly unsteady, though if I pretend hard enough, it won't have sounded so in a future memory.
"Too tense." He mumbles against my mouth, finger still rubbing in small circles. I try to relax, the sensation utterly foreign to me. Aya mouths the curve of my ear, tongue whispering along its inner whorls. "You need to relax." One finger slowly slides inside me, a long, careful pause as I try to adjust. Hushed breaths eat up the silence.
Then he starts to move, sliding a second finger in, trying to distract me with his mouth. "Nn, you don't have to be so damned thorough." I push back, trying for more sensation, feeling his body rock against mine as we both try not to push things. Gods, if it weren't for that damned leg of his...
He tilts his hips upwards, fumbles with the bottle of massage oil again.
"Really, don't bother." I take it out of his hand; drop it on the floor where he can't reach it. He shrugs and thrusts straight up and then in. A bare hint of discomfort. His muscles tremble under mine as he forcibly holds himself still. Gods, it's been a long while since I've been on the receiving end of anything. Slick hot skin, that unfamiliar feeling of being stretched, being filled.
Shuddering breaths as I rock forward, ease myself back down. It's not so bad; I can't remember why I'm usually so averse to this. Slow, trying not to injure Aya again, tiny involuntary jerks of his hips as he tries to stay still and barely succeeds. He grabs my hair, pulls my face down.
"You're going too slow."
"No'm not." I pry his fingers out of my hair, keep moving, trying for more. Just having him inside me is sexy in it's own right, thinking about it. "I'm on top in the most literal sense of the word, and I'll decide who's going too slow." I nip the side of his neck.
There's a fierce bunching of muscles beneath me, and the next thing I know I'm flat on my back with my legs up over Aya's shoulders.
"You. Were. Going. Too. Slow." He sets about, trying to show me where I went wrong. Gods, he's right, the press of flesh against flesh, the shivering friction, everything. He scrabbles at my skin, trying for a better purchase, thrusts at an angle. Everything blanks out for a moment, comes rushing back to find me clawing at Aya's back, making these almost embarrassingly eager noises, shuddering under him.
"Right there, hit that spot again." I push up with my hips, trying for a repeat of that mind jolting pleasure. He obliges without any apparent effort. "Mm, don't stop." Another rush of fast, hard thrusts and I know I won't last much longer. Then he stops.
"Arrggh! You're trying to kill me!" I pound on his shoulder. "Why did you stop?" I try to keep myself from the desire to inflict real harm.
"Going to make this last." He rests his flushed forehead against my neck, trying to steady his erratic breaths.
"Not with your leg like that. We'll have other times to make a day of it." I grouse.
He nods, still resting against my chest. I can read the pain in the lines of his body above me. I'd feel a bit more concern if I could, but I only have one train of thought when sex gets mixed into the scene of things. He starts up again, that raw, pounding rhythm, making up for lost ground.
"I'm so close, keep going, don't stop this time. 'M so close." I can't help the mantra that works itself from my throat, mumbled words against his salty-sweat skin. "Just one more, right there, don't, gods, please, right there." He catches my lips with his, muffling my shameless begging, arms trembling from holding his weight up so long, from impending exhaustion.
A quick succession of thrusts and I'm lost, that heady rush throbbing through my body, intensified as Aya brushes against my prostrate repeatedly, another one of those unexpected mewls forcing itself from my mouth. He collapses on top of my spent body, harsh breaths laboring, heart thundering against mine, sweat burning my eyes.
"Crying?" Aya pushes himself up with trembling limbs, thumbs away the dampness on my cheeks.
"No." I link my arms behind his slick back, burrowing my face into that safe spot where neck and shoulder meet. No place more perfect on any human being.
Aya holds onto me for a moment, then eases out of my grasp. "Got to get the weight off." He gasps, shakily lowering himself onto his back. I let him settle down and then continue regaining my breath while I try to keep as much of my skin touching his as possible. Comfortable.
"You doing okay?" I rest my palm against his stomach, feeling the contours of our similar muscles.
He and I both look down at the bandages. I don't see any blood seeping through. "Want me to take a look at it? I'm not doctor, but I can tell the difference between good and bad for the most part."
Aya shakes his head. "It doesn't ache as much as it did last night. Worse than a few hours ago, but not when it first happened. I'm too tired to care."
I'm not too tired to care about his health, but I'm not up to arguing him down yet.
"What a waste," he continues, "I told you I'd just get sweaty and dirty again." He gives me another almost-smile, closes his eyes to nap. I lie helplessly awake, scrutinizing his relaxed profile.
"Well, which choice we make depends on how we're going to divvy up." Omi solemnly tells us.
"You can't really use a word like 'divvy' to describe the distribution of people, can you? It makes us sound like potatoes or some other such food item." I look up from the foot massage I'm giving Aya, seated at the end of the bed. Aya pretends I don't exist and I'm not doing anything as abhorrent as touching him in the presence of others. Good to see he's feeling better.
Ken and Omi sit cross-legged on the other bed, papers spread out in front of them, building plans.
"You know what I mean. Are we going to need two rooms or four, do we want four separate homes, two separate homes? How do we want to do this?" Omi fiddles with a stack of advertisements.
"What do you want to do?" Aya asks him.
"I just- I'd really like for us to stay together. We're a team. We could keep being assassins, it's a very prosperous career. I like us four together. It's just more familiar, more comfortable. More like a home. We could afford any sized house we wanted, we could start up a new flower shop and still have hundreds and hundreds of thousands of dollars left over. Funds aren't a problem."
"I sort of like the idea of another big place for all of us, too." Ken pipes up, maybe because he'd go along with what made Omi happy, maybe because he really does think that.
I sigh, switching feet, trying not to smirk when Aya's eyes momentarily flutter closed. "I'm with you guys."
We all look expectantly to Aya. He lifts one shoulder in a lying-down-shrug. "Fine with me."
Omi gives us a sunshine smile and kicks a stack of papers off the bed. "That eliminates those! Now, how many bedrooms in a house are we talking about? How many bathrooms, do we need a gym, do we want to see if we can get a swimming pool? Specifics. Actually, as bedrooms go, it's really only three or two as our option. I'm sharing with Ken." He beams, obviously thrilled by this development. I wonder why Aya hasn't had a coronary by this point.
Aya and I both manage to blurt out "Three" and "Two" respectively at the exact same time. Then we have a frowning contest while Ken and Omi watch, uncomfortable.
"Why would we need to share a room?" Aya glares at me. "We can afford not to double up, it's not like we're staying together to split up rent."
I sigh again. Okay, so, now he's in denial again. Oh well, he can't gripe if I stash all kinds of inebriation causing substances in my room then. Again, I'm too tired to shout him down to a reasonable solution. If he wants to pretend that he's not sleeping with me, if he wants to pretend Omi and Ken don't already know, that's up to him. If he wants to escape from me, so be it. We all have our quirks, I guess.
"Three bedrooms it is then." I make a point of deliberately dropping Aya's foot and moving further away from him. He can do what he wants, but that doesn't mean I'll be nice to him about it. He has the good grace to look a tiny bit guilty.
"I'd definitely like a finished basement, or something with wood floors I could turn into a gym." Ken flips through options. "Or maybe something we could work on. A fixer-upper, you know? It'd be fun to pick how everything winds up looking, choosing everything on our own and putting it in." Ken does a passable impression of Omi's puppy dog expression. He holds out a fact sheet, hopeful to the umpteenth digit.
I lean over and take the paper before Aya can even think of asking for it. He's not supposed to be up, so anything more than a foot or two is beyond his reach.
A three bedroom two-story with a fourth optional bedroom, large kitchen, dining room, two bathrooms, a basement and an off-house cellar, a living room and a library/den designated room. It's fairly large, judging by the number of rooms and the square footage listed on the paper. It's also about fifty years old and deeply mired in the pit of disrepair. Ken's ultimate fixer-upper.
"Could we actually live in this building while we repaired it? If it's in as bad a shape as the price itself tells me, would I be better off spending a fortune on outdoor camping gear?"
"We could fix things up. Ken and I went to go look at it. There aren't big holes in the roof or anything. There are a lot of things that need to be repaired, heating and electricity type things, a bit of remodeling. Nothing a few coats of paint and a month or two of random repairing won't make livable."
Time for my third sigh of this discussion. "So, you want me to live in an insect infested shack while you put in new everything. If you think you can make me sleep on another mattress on the floor in something like that, you're beyond wrong!" I deign to hand the sheet over to Aya's outstretched hand after waiting a few pointed moments.
He shrugs after reading through everything. "If you can argue down the price a bit considering the work it sounds like we'll have to put into it. We can stay in a hotel until it's in any condition to be inhabited." So our mighty leader speaks. If he's set, end of story.
"Are we going to let people know we're back in business? You know which people I mean." Omi cocks his head to the side. He means the people who buy death from us. I'm sure they'd all be glad to hear that their champions of greed and success are back for another bout of life wrecking.
"After Aya heals up, we probably should." I receive another batch of rage in disguise as a pair of beautiful amethyst eyes in response to my statement.
"Who said anything about my needing to heal?"
"Youji and I have so far, Ken will as well if you give him a chance." Omi almost smirks, an unbearably adorable expression of mischief for him.
Aya growls and mutters under his breath. "Whatever you want is fine. Go buy the damned house." He rolls partially onto his other side, not really angry but unwilling to let things pass without a little bit of a sulk.
The Cheerful Duo bounce up and away to acquire their new dream home. I watch the door slam after them.
"They do sort of know that we're sleeping with each other." I tell Aya a bit balefully.
"And? That makes it an established relationship?" He looks back my way. For a moment I want to strike him, hit him in retaliation for all the crap I put up with for him, not expecting this new bit of rudeness for my troubles. He rolls over, trying to make it look like it's a painful move for him.
"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that." The words are stiff and mechanical, but he's trying to really mean them. He levers himself up into a sitting position, going against the long list of don't-dos that Omi left for him. He wants me to move up next to him so he doesn't feel like he's reaching across an entire room. I know the look in his eyes. I don't oblige. I don't readily comply with those I'm not in an 'established relationship' with.
"No. You shouldn't have said that." I agree evenly. "If you decided this was nothing more than a few fucks in a time of need I'd have appreciated hearing it privately instead of in front of Omi and Ken." I consider getting up and leaving him to stew in his own juices. I have nowhere else to go. No car, only one pair of clothes, no money. I settle for staring at the wall, ignoring him for all I'm worth.
If he'll just let it drop I'll forgive him in no time at all. I'm not good at staying angry at people, especially Aya. If he'll just leave me alone I'll force myself to see that he's right, even if he isn't and things will be fine again.
A rustling of covers and a hand on my shoulder, the touch partially masked by the blanket around my shoulders. When no reaction is forthcoming on my part, the hand becomes a pair of arms wrapped around my waist from behind, a chin resting on my shoulder.
"Did you want this to be the real thing?" He sounds surprised.
"No. Of course not.?" I try to keep the sarcasm from dripping off my voice in thick, viscous torrents.
Aya lets out a deep breath against my hair, carefully stretches out his leg, moving with the ginger care of the truly wary. At least he's going to attempt to take care of himself this time rather than totally denying all injury.
"You haven't exactly ever cultivated a reputation for seeking out long-term relationships with people. You like, what did you call it? 'A few fucks in a time of need'. I assumed that's what this was. You feeling unsettled and clingy after some bad things happened to you. Things have partially passed over and I'm assuming you'll be tiring of me in no time at all." He doesn't move, settling more weight onto my back if anything.
I explode, pushing him away, jumping to my feet, and throwing the blanket at him for lack of a better outlet of my anger. "Didn't we already have this talk? Several times over? I'm tired of fucking being alone! I don't want a quick, free fuck when I can't pick up someone better at a bar. I'm tired of living like that, some sort of bored wastrel. How many times do I have to tell you before you believe me?
I pause. "Unless you're trying for a blameless letdown because you're not interested in the slightest." I cross my arms. "I'm tired of being jerked around as well. Just spit it out. You want this to be a faded memory, I can make it so in a heartbeat, won't even effect your stupid fucking team-balance."
Aya blanches. "That's not what I'm saying either. I'm just making sure before I jump to conclusions. I'm much better with action planning then I am with words."
I count to ten, hold my breath; let it all go again. Time to exercise that forgiving nature of mine again. I dump myself down on the bed next to him, watching him, waiting for him to come up with more things to say.
"Would an apology do?" He glances over, handing my blanket back. I wrap it around my shoulders, shrug.
"I am sorry, if it helps. I shouldn't assume things. And this is as good as you're likely to get. I don't like apologizing." He ends on a stiff note, half defensive, half apprehensive. I almost smile. He's so screwed up; you've got to at least be entertained by that. I am amused by it, sometimes. When I'm not on the receiving end.
"It helps, a bit." I force a smile. "Hey, we're officially on our way to yet another new start. Let's not begin on bad terms with each other." He leans against my shoulder, issue forgotten for all appearances.
I run my words through my head again. 'I'm tired of being alone'. Just like Ken. Am I setting myself up to use yet another person? Is this going to be the same, using but not feeling guilty because he's doing the exact same? I sigh for a fourth time, sickening that I'm counting them at all. Why can't life ever be straightforward?
FINIS!
/pYup, this took some work, both times through! If you'd like to continue on with the sequel, you'll find it on my webpage: http://www.geocities.com/darkhunterfinatic . I'm re-editing the sequel and posting as I go along. Anyone left who still needs to e-mail me? Hehe! akainobaka@mchsi.com or darkhunter@ijustdontcare.com They're both real e-mail addresses! In your FACE!!! Can you deal with THAT!! -sprites away to act insane on her own time.
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The room is so quiet. Of course, it wouldn't be anything else given an option. Aya isn't Mr. Talkative even when he IS conscious. I wish he'd open his eyes, just for a moment, so I could verify in my mind that he's not dead instead of sleeping. The temporary IV Omi has dripping fluids back into his body hangs from one of the wall fixtures, a casually draped appendage.
For a while, I was continuously brushing at his hair, sitting on the edge of the bed and then moving, thumping around the room, selfishly hoping I could wake him by 'accident'. When that failed, I just settled down in one of those fake armchairs hotels always stock. Miniature armchairs. His breathing is so shallow, I have to sit and make sure he doesn't stop all together.
The doorknob rattles unsuccessfully for a few moments. "Youji, let me in." Omi whispers softly against the door itself. I don't want to get up to let him in. He'll distract me; Aya could die while I'm not looking.
"Youji?" Insistent.
Growling under my breath, I pad over to the door, open it up for him. "There's a key card on the table over there, you're free to take it, I have another copy, and Aya certainly won't be needing it." I let out a bitter laugh. I'm starting to wonder if I'm coming slightly unhinged.
"I just wanted to make sure that everything was okay over here." He presses his wrist to Aya's forehead. Violet eyes blink open. Irrational jealousy again. He'll wake up for Omi, but not for me.
Mumbling sleepily, Aya tries to sit up, breath hissing out as he moves his leg.
"No. You can't get up yet." Omi pushes down on his chest. Aya complies, face still tight with pain. I hover in the background, angry and jealous as hell.
"Where's Youji?" Aya finally asks, looking around with unfocused eyes. The knot in the pit of my stomach loosens a bit.
Omi motions me back with one hand. "He's at the foot of the bed. I need to make sure you're still doing okay though. He'll be over in a moment." He talks softly and soothingly like he would an injured animal, more tone than substance. Aya glares at him.
The bandages covering his side and leg are still white, always a good sign in my mind. Omi, carefully peels back the edge, ignoring Aya's nakedness. "No sign of infection. If you keep up with antibiotics and keep it clean, you should be fine. You did lose a lot of blood though, and should stay in bed for a suitable length of time." Omi doesn't list a specific amount of time, probably so Aya can't hold him to it later.
"Is it going to heal cleanly?" Aya curiously peers down, trying to see the wound himself. "I can't afford to limp."
"I don't know. I cannot make you any promises yet. We're all young, we heal easily. Some important muscles were torn, but they may heal without a problem. Just make sure you rest and stay in bed." He's still using a bit of the sing-song voice reserved for those slow of wit. That could mean bad news for Aya. Omi's been known to keep the truth to himself occasionally when he felt it served interests better.
He pats Aya on the shoulder, standing up. "Get more sleep." As the boy brushes past me, he quietly asks if I'd like him and Ken to sleep in the second bed tonight, for company. I shake my head, returning to the uncomfortable chair, to keep watch over Aya.
"Did he tell you something I don't know?" Aya asks me faintly, fingering the gauze wrapping around the needle inserted into his inside elbow.
"Nothing. If something is wrong, and I'm not saying it is, then he certainly wouldn't tell me. I'd be the first person to let you know the truth." I rest my palm on his forehead. It's a touch clammy if anything. After dragging another blanket off of the second bed and draping it over Aya, I settle back down into the miniature armchair.
"You angry with me?" His voice is muggy.
"Why the hell would I be angry with you?" I lean forward.
"For drugging you and taking away your shot at revenge." He tells me, using that same voice Omi did.
Oh. That seems like eons ago, Aya being injured is the present; anything else was days ago. Years ago. "No." I finally answer. "Not right now. I'm too busy being worried and hysterical to be angry at you." I grasp his outstretched hand, scooting the chair closer to the bed.
"How are you feeling? Do you need anything?" I switch into nurse mode without a thought.
"Omi gave me something. It doesn't hurt nearly as much as it should. I'd appreciate some water right now." He closes his eyes, relaxing slightly.
I dash off to get him some tap water in one of the plastic hotel cups. When I step back into the room, Aya's managed to ease himself partially upright. The effort of sitting looks to be wearing upon him already. His hands shake so badly I wind up having to hold the cup to his mouth.
When Aya makes motions towards an attempt at standing and/or removing the IV I forcibly keep him in bed. "Omi says you're not to get up. You'll only damage your leg, and LEAVE that alone." I swat his meddling fingers away.
"So I'm supposed to do what? Unless you're going to fetch me a motherfucking bed pan." He growls, pushing back.
That's my cue to turn a tomato-like shade of red. Damn. Okay, so maybe he can't stay in bed twenty-four hours a day. I help him hobble to the bathroom, holding up the saline bag, making sure he doesn't put any weight on his injured side, then stand guard outside the door, somehow or another having developed a sense of decency within the past few hours.
I hear him retching again behind the closed door, feel guilty, but respect his privacy. Gods, these have certainly been a great past few days as far as the art of reexamining past meals is concerned. Maybe I should go visit Ken and Omi and take a few more tallies if at all possible.
The bathroom door swings back open after a few moments with Aya putting all his weight upon the wooden frame. He doesn't refuse my help, probably having finally realized that resistance is futile. He honestly cannot stand on his own at this moment.
"If you've just thrown up all the painkillers Omi gave you, I'm thinking you might want me to go get some more for you." I settle him back down onto the mattress, worried by the waxy-pale face in front of me.
"Painkillers there." He points to the saline drip one more time, sagging down onto the bed, too tired to even pull up the covers. I tuck him in, sitting back down to watch him sleep again.
"What did he look like, before he died? What did Ko-ishi look like?" I try to get one more answer out of Aya before he drifts back into the merry land of unconsciousness.
"He was smiling through the blood pouring from his mouth." Aya leaves me alone with my thoughts.
I'll bet he was smiling, the bastard. Thinking that he'd triumph over the situation until that very last moment. I slam my hand down on the arm rest of the chair, regretting the one chance I lost to have seen it, to have danced on his corpse and come home drenched in his blood.
Aya's face twists in his sleep, hand clenching and unclenching on the pillow next to him. I carefully climb over him, slipping under the covers, oh-so-carefully lying next to him. He's going to stick his fist clear through my torso if I accidentally bump his leg. And I'd be willing to bet large sums of money that he's physically capable of doing so.
The time passes slowly. I'm afraid to add a few more hours to the new sleep record I'm working on. The worry is still there, that he'll cease breathing as soon as I close my eyes, and I won't notice until it's too late. He lost so much blood. He could still die. Fuck. I don't even know how we're going to clean up that blood mess all over the bathroom. Blood stains. The towels, I'm sure it's on the rug from his clothes, on the tile, the bathmat, the bed. Gods. I rest my forehead against his cheekbone, eyes watching the faint rising and falling of his chest.
Full-blown afternoon arrives, the barest hints of light showing against the curtains. I still haven't slept. I probably feel just about as horrible as I look now, the poorly chosen tranquilizers still fucking with my head just a bit. When I'm finally dozing off with my chin resting on Aya's shoulder, that goddamned door decides to open up again. They have the WORST timing.
"It's just me." Omi peeps around the corner, doing his "cute" look, so I won't be irked. "Ken and I are heading out. The police wanted an official report from us."
"About killing Ko-ishi?" I blink, utterly confused and none-too-awake.
"No, about the burning of second house." Omi shakes his head and smiles pitying at me, only half-way joking. "Ken and I are going to look at readily available housing properties, get us set up somewhere local again. Aya's going to be cranky today, I'm guessing, but he still can't get out of bed, no matter what excuse he may come up with."
"What if he has to use the bathroom?" I ask wryly.
That gives him a pause for thought. "Well, that's the exception, I guess." He waves. "Anyway, I'll let you know when we get back! Don't you go dying on me!" He disappears from the doorframe. He doesn't realize how unfunny that is right now. Unless Aya isn't going to die, in which case he'd feel justified saying horrible things like that. I decide to take it all as a good sign, letting myself fall asleep for real this time.
Hours later I wake again, still curled up against Aya's side. I'm still alive, so I must not have moved much in my sleep. His fingers are curled loosely in my disheveled hair. He watches me through half-closed eyes.
"How are you feeling?" I nuzzle his temple, sleepy and warm and content.
"I've been better." He shifts a bit, resettles his leg. "There's a note and a big plastic basin on the other bed." He informs me.
"And let me guess, you're being good for once and staying put, but overcome with curiosity by this point, you want me to go and get it?"
Grumbing at the loss of heat and peace, I crawl to the end of the bed so as not to climb over Aya and jostle any healing parts. He holds a hand out for the note, but I ignore him and read it first.
"Aya's probably going to start ranting about wanting a shower or a bath sometime today. The answer to that is 'No'. He can't get his leg wet yet; I want the bandages to stay in place unless he bleeds through them, in which case you should simply call an ambulance. If he's really going to kick up a fuss, we went out and bought a big basin to put warm water in, and a nice big sponge. Don't have too much fun."
Gee. Giving Aya a sponge bath... Fun? What would give them an idea like that?
"What does it say?" He growls at me, sitting upright he's so ticked off.
I reach into the plastic tub, pushing aside a bottle of massage oil so I can pull out the tan sponge, squeezing the round object in his face. "Ken and Omi want me to give you a sponge bath. They probably set up cameras or something while we were sleeping." I cheerfully assume.
That manages to wrench a rusty chuckle out of him. "What does it really say?" He asks.
"I just told you. They want me to give you a sponge bath." I'm laughing at Aya's disgruntled expression by this point.
"Why can't a take a regular bath?"
"You can't get your leg wet, and you're not allowed to take the bandage off." Always being one to comply and, as usual, run by my overactive libido, I happily sashay off to put the "Do Not Disturb" sign on our doorknob.
Aya is still willing a painful death upon me with his eyes when I set the large basin of steaming water on the end table next to him.
"If you'd go off somewhere else, I'm perfectly capable of doing this by myself. You don't have to play over-enthusiastic nursemaid." He crosses his arms.
"Aww, is Aya... embarrassed?" I tease him, leaning over to brush a kiss across his tensed mouth.
"I'm perfectly capable of wiping down my own body." He sighs, determined to make things as unpleasant as he possibly can.
"Oh, don't be such a spoilsport, Aya. I can identify at least two-dozen people by first and last name that would willingly to give up years of their lives to get a sponge bath from yours truly. What makes you think you're so different?"
"I possess morals and a working mind." He tilts his head to the side, instinctively knowing he's made yet another match point. I splutter, but honestly have no reply to that shot.
"Being witty isn't going to deter me. You're the one with the bum leg, I'm the one with the sponge." I give him my standard predatory grin. He sighs and kicks the blanket away, still clad in nothing but the white gauze protecting his thigh.
"Do your worst." He spreads his arms out, closes his eyes in a satirical position of submission. He's watching me from underneath mostly closed eyelids, pretending he's not. The brat, he's just being difficult.
I dip the bath sponge in the warm water, squeezing out excess moisture, slowly rubbing soothing circles over Aya's tensed stomach, getting the last traces of dried blood away from the skin surrounding his wounds. He relaxes as the textured material massages away surface complaints, along with old sweat and blood.
He's purring within moments, twisting to give me better access to his skin. Because he expects me to do the opposite, I make a mental hands-off rule and stick to it like one truly inspired. That doesn't mean I still can't be evil. His nipples harden instantaneously as I sweep over them, wanting to take them into my mouth, to taste the water on his skin, feel that puckered flesh against my tongue. I refrain. Never let it be said that I lack will power.
Hazy eyes follow my hand with rapt concentration as I move to get more water for the sponge. He's enjoying this at least, one step in the right direction. I continue up, smoothing over his shoulders, helping him sit partially upright, cleaning the smooth line of his neck. He leans into me, tilting his face up for a kiss. His eyes flutter closed, lips water-damp.
"Why did you pull away?" He reaches out for a handful of my hair; I sit back out of range.
"Because, I'm trying to get you clean. That's the fun of it all. Now be a good lad and hold still."
"I know what this will lead to. I'm only going to get sweaty and dirty again anyway. Better to get it over with." He sounds almost petulant, trying not to. I mentally thank Omi and Ken for being manipulative little bastards and leaving me this new form of amusement. If there's one thing that's more fun than actually having sex with Aya, it's unsettling him and confusing him to no ends.
I only break the hushed silence once, to tell him to carefully roll over. Balefully, he cooperates, carefully rearranging his bum leg. I think he's almost regretting the neutral atmosphere. I guess he must have hormones of his own too. He must be chilled as the water dries in the cool air of the room, but he doesn't complain. He usually doesn't. The muted light makes his skin shine like polished metal, beaded drops decorating the line of his spine.
"You want a back rub?" I ask, whispering in his ear. He looks over his shoulder at me, one cheek resting against the pillow.
"In return for what? You're up to something, I've never known you to turn down an offer for sex. What is it you think you'll get from me instead?"
Skepticism. For me? Why Aya, what reason could there ever be to distrust any of MY motives?
"Nothing. I just thought you might like one after being battered around one night and then spending the next remaining day in bed." I lift one shoulder in a passive shrug. "If you're not interested though..." Five. Four. Three. Two. One.
"No. I'd be interested." He remains stretched out on his stomach, skin mostly dry now. "Just as long as you don't try to use it as some sort of favor fodder you can use to get back at me for drugging you and leaving you all alone in a hotel." Even beneath the complacency of the painkillers he's floating along the influence of, the humor glints through.
"I could care less about that." And I really could care less. There are more important things, when it comes down to it.
I carefully straddle the backs of his thighs, making sure no weight rests on his wounded thigh, balancing myself, feeling ungainly as always. He lets out a relieved breath as it becomes obvious I'm not going to ignite the burning pains in his leg again.
Mentally laughing at their conniving ways, I uncap the bottle of massage oil Ken and Omi left for us. You'd almost think they were trying to force a little kiss-and-make-up session. I'm assuming Omi came up with the meddlesome idea; it's more suited to the inner workings of his mind, not that he'd be happy if I went and wound up accidentally ripping Aya's stitches open by getting too ardent with him.
The muscles under my hands are tense, and he stifles soft breathy words of relief against the scratchy material of the pillowcase. There are scars I'd never noticed until this very moment as the faint lines show silver against his luminescent skin. I try not to go protective all of a sudden. He's better at taking care of himself than I will ever be.
I swing my weight off his body, kneeling on the bed next to his sprawled out body. He shifts to watch me as I lean down and brush my lips across one of the more prominent scars, a thick, pale, thumb-length's worth of old pain. A knife wound, I even remember the circumstances surrounding the mishap.
"You have far too many marks on your skin." I nuzzle his ear; kiss the side of his neck, judging him suitably pacified by my hands. He grudgingly rolls over, a little groggy from remaining stationary.
"When my side and leg heal up I'll have a few more. To live a lucrative life, one has to take risks. Sometimes risks leave scars. That's just how things turn out." He reaches out and pokes my torso, runs a cool finger along the old bullet scar that runs just under my left nipple. "It's not as if you don't have your share fair." He meets my eyes, both of us feeling nauseatingly mortal today. It's not fun being reminded that life really can take what it has so freely and at times not-so-freely given.
I grab his hand before he can lower to his side again, bring it up to my lips, and kiss his cold fingertips. He sighs and tilts his chin upwards, cups my face with his dry palm. After a silence-laden moment Aya speaks.
"You know, I'm the wounded one here. If you want a kiss you're going to have to be the one to move. I'm certainly not sitting up now." He almost smiles for a moment, eyes a little too needy for my general tastes. I lean over anyway. We're all a little desperate right now, how can I blame him when I'm probably worse than he is.
He relaxes back into the indent his body has made in the mattress, tongue sweeping along my lower lip. I part my lips, holding back on any actions until he makes the next move. Trembling, his long fingers cup the back of my skull. That same old shivery feeling I'm getting used to, as I try to meld my mouth to his, make us of one body. It's been a long time, years, since I've been able to connect like this. I plan on making the best of it.
His hand slides up my ribs, almost icy enough to detract from the pleasure of physical contact. I swear I'm going to buy him a fucking pair of gloves the next time I actually have money in my possession. Hell, I'd buy him whatever he wanted if he'd just keep kissing me like this, actually participating instead of letting things wash over him.
My knee comes down between his legs, sliding forward to press the length of my thigh up against his erection. An almost painful tug on my hair. "Mm, be careful, that's attached you know." He pushes himself partially upright with one elbow, tugging my head back again, running the tip of his tongue down the column of my throat.
I rub myself against his left thigh, unable to help myself as he gnaws on my neck, the wet mouth on my skin followed by the scraping of teeth. "Gods, right there." I tilt my head to the side, his grip on my hair somewhat loosened, trying to get him to land his mouth at just the right spot. "Umm, don't stop. I'll buy you a fucking diamond encrusted katana if that's what it takes." I know I'm going to have a plethora of red circles on my neck tomorrow, but I can't honestly give a shit.
I run a hand down his smooth, clean chest, heading lower. He grabs my wrist, pulling back. "This may not exactly be good timing, unless you want to bring Omi in to put new bandages on my leg when we're through. Not exactly in the best of shape right now, as much as I despise admitting it."
"So?" I lift one shoulder, shifting Aya grip until I'm the one holding onto his arm. I brush my lips across his palm. "So, you just lie there, and I'll do all the work."
"I don't see how that will work." He leans away from my touch. Gods be damned. Now he's being difficult again. He's trying to drive me nuts, isn't he? There goes the atmosphere.
"Simple. You lie there and trust me." I push him back down, leaning down for an all-consuming kiss. He sighs into my mouth but responds hesitantly as I kick off the last of my clothes. I lean my weight onto my elbows as I swing one leg over his hips. Comprehension seems to dawn in his opened eyes.
"Youji, you're going-" I put a hand over his mouth.
"Look, I'm quite horny right now, and so are you. If you're going to be difficult and uncooperative, I may be forced to go and find Ken and Omi and beat them senseless for setting up this whole situation to begin with. If we do it this way you won't have to move much and you won't tear any stitches."
He pushes my hand away from his face. "I was GOING to say that you might want to use that massage oil as an impromptu lubricant." He frowns at me, obviously annoyed by my overeager interruptions. He stretches and tips the bottle until his grasping fingers can snatch it up off the bedside table. He uncaps it himself, stretches up for an almost forceful kiss while he occupies his hands, sliding them down along my spine.
I tense up as one slick finger circles my asshole, just rubbing the puckered flesh. "Why don't you just get it over with?" My voice is slightly unsteady, though if I pretend hard enough, it won't have sounded so in a future memory.
"Too tense." He mumbles against my mouth, finger still rubbing in small circles. I try to relax, the sensation utterly foreign to me. Aya mouths the curve of my ear, tongue whispering along its inner whorls. "You need to relax." One finger slowly slides inside me, a long, careful pause as I try to adjust. Hushed breaths eat up the silence.
Then he starts to move, sliding a second finger in, trying to distract me with his mouth. "Nn, you don't have to be so damned thorough." I push back, trying for more sensation, feeling his body rock against mine as we both try not to push things. Gods, if it weren't for that damned leg of his...
He tilts his hips upwards, fumbles with the bottle of massage oil again.
"Really, don't bother." I take it out of his hand; drop it on the floor where he can't reach it. He shrugs and thrusts straight up and then in. A bare hint of discomfort. His muscles tremble under mine as he forcibly holds himself still. Gods, it's been a long while since I've been on the receiving end of anything. Slick hot skin, that unfamiliar feeling of being stretched, being filled.
Shuddering breaths as I rock forward, ease myself back down. It's not so bad; I can't remember why I'm usually so averse to this. Slow, trying not to injure Aya again, tiny involuntary jerks of his hips as he tries to stay still and barely succeeds. He grabs my hair, pulls my face down.
"You're going too slow."
"No'm not." I pry his fingers out of my hair, keep moving, trying for more. Just having him inside me is sexy in it's own right, thinking about it. "I'm on top in the most literal sense of the word, and I'll decide who's going too slow." I nip the side of his neck.
There's a fierce bunching of muscles beneath me, and the next thing I know I'm flat on my back with my legs up over Aya's shoulders.
"You. Were. Going. Too. Slow." He sets about, trying to show me where I went wrong. Gods, he's right, the press of flesh against flesh, the shivering friction, everything. He scrabbles at my skin, trying for a better purchase, thrusts at an angle. Everything blanks out for a moment, comes rushing back to find me clawing at Aya's back, making these almost embarrassingly eager noises, shuddering under him.
"Right there, hit that spot again." I push up with my hips, trying for a repeat of that mind jolting pleasure. He obliges without any apparent effort. "Mm, don't stop." Another rush of fast, hard thrusts and I know I won't last much longer. Then he stops.
"Arrggh! You're trying to kill me!" I pound on his shoulder. "Why did you stop?" I try to keep myself from the desire to inflict real harm.
"Going to make this last." He rests his flushed forehead against my neck, trying to steady his erratic breaths.
"Not with your leg like that. We'll have other times to make a day of it." I grouse.
He nods, still resting against my chest. I can read the pain in the lines of his body above me. I'd feel a bit more concern if I could, but I only have one train of thought when sex gets mixed into the scene of things. He starts up again, that raw, pounding rhythm, making up for lost ground.
"I'm so close, keep going, don't stop this time. 'M so close." I can't help the mantra that works itself from my throat, mumbled words against his salty-sweat skin. "Just one more, right there, don't, gods, please, right there." He catches my lips with his, muffling my shameless begging, arms trembling from holding his weight up so long, from impending exhaustion.
A quick succession of thrusts and I'm lost, that heady rush throbbing through my body, intensified as Aya brushes against my prostrate repeatedly, another one of those unexpected mewls forcing itself from my mouth. He collapses on top of my spent body, harsh breaths laboring, heart thundering against mine, sweat burning my eyes.
"Crying?" Aya pushes himself up with trembling limbs, thumbs away the dampness on my cheeks.
"No." I link my arms behind his slick back, burrowing my face into that safe spot where neck and shoulder meet. No place more perfect on any human being.
Aya holds onto me for a moment, then eases out of my grasp. "Got to get the weight off." He gasps, shakily lowering himself onto his back. I let him settle down and then continue regaining my breath while I try to keep as much of my skin touching his as possible. Comfortable.
"You doing okay?" I rest my palm against his stomach, feeling the contours of our similar muscles.
He and I both look down at the bandages. I don't see any blood seeping through. "Want me to take a look at it? I'm not doctor, but I can tell the difference between good and bad for the most part."
Aya shakes his head. "It doesn't ache as much as it did last night. Worse than a few hours ago, but not when it first happened. I'm too tired to care."
I'm not too tired to care about his health, but I'm not up to arguing him down yet.
"What a waste," he continues, "I told you I'd just get sweaty and dirty again." He gives me another almost-smile, closes his eyes to nap. I lie helplessly awake, scrutinizing his relaxed profile.
"Well, which choice we make depends on how we're going to divvy up." Omi solemnly tells us.
"You can't really use a word like 'divvy' to describe the distribution of people, can you? It makes us sound like potatoes or some other such food item." I look up from the foot massage I'm giving Aya, seated at the end of the bed. Aya pretends I don't exist and I'm not doing anything as abhorrent as touching him in the presence of others. Good to see he's feeling better.
Ken and Omi sit cross-legged on the other bed, papers spread out in front of them, building plans.
"You know what I mean. Are we going to need two rooms or four, do we want four separate homes, two separate homes? How do we want to do this?" Omi fiddles with a stack of advertisements.
"What do you want to do?" Aya asks him.
"I just- I'd really like for us to stay together. We're a team. We could keep being assassins, it's a very prosperous career. I like us four together. It's just more familiar, more comfortable. More like a home. We could afford any sized house we wanted, we could start up a new flower shop and still have hundreds and hundreds of thousands of dollars left over. Funds aren't a problem."
"I sort of like the idea of another big place for all of us, too." Ken pipes up, maybe because he'd go along with what made Omi happy, maybe because he really does think that.
I sigh, switching feet, trying not to smirk when Aya's eyes momentarily flutter closed. "I'm with you guys."
We all look expectantly to Aya. He lifts one shoulder in a lying-down-shrug. "Fine with me."
Omi gives us a sunshine smile and kicks a stack of papers off the bed. "That eliminates those! Now, how many bedrooms in a house are we talking about? How many bathrooms, do we need a gym, do we want to see if we can get a swimming pool? Specifics. Actually, as bedrooms go, it's really only three or two as our option. I'm sharing with Ken." He beams, obviously thrilled by this development. I wonder why Aya hasn't had a coronary by this point.
Aya and I both manage to blurt out "Three" and "Two" respectively at the exact same time. Then we have a frowning contest while Ken and Omi watch, uncomfortable.
"Why would we need to share a room?" Aya glares at me. "We can afford not to double up, it's not like we're staying together to split up rent."
I sigh again. Okay, so, now he's in denial again. Oh well, he can't gripe if I stash all kinds of inebriation causing substances in my room then. Again, I'm too tired to shout him down to a reasonable solution. If he wants to pretend that he's not sleeping with me, if he wants to pretend Omi and Ken don't already know, that's up to him. If he wants to escape from me, so be it. We all have our quirks, I guess.
"Three bedrooms it is then." I make a point of deliberately dropping Aya's foot and moving further away from him. He can do what he wants, but that doesn't mean I'll be nice to him about it. He has the good grace to look a tiny bit guilty.
"I'd definitely like a finished basement, or something with wood floors I could turn into a gym." Ken flips through options. "Or maybe something we could work on. A fixer-upper, you know? It'd be fun to pick how everything winds up looking, choosing everything on our own and putting it in." Ken does a passable impression of Omi's puppy dog expression. He holds out a fact sheet, hopeful to the umpteenth digit.
I lean over and take the paper before Aya can even think of asking for it. He's not supposed to be up, so anything more than a foot or two is beyond his reach.
A three bedroom two-story with a fourth optional bedroom, large kitchen, dining room, two bathrooms, a basement and an off-house cellar, a living room and a library/den designated room. It's fairly large, judging by the number of rooms and the square footage listed on the paper. It's also about fifty years old and deeply mired in the pit of disrepair. Ken's ultimate fixer-upper.
"Could we actually live in this building while we repaired it? If it's in as bad a shape as the price itself tells me, would I be better off spending a fortune on outdoor camping gear?"
"We could fix things up. Ken and I went to go look at it. There aren't big holes in the roof or anything. There are a lot of things that need to be repaired, heating and electricity type things, a bit of remodeling. Nothing a few coats of paint and a month or two of random repairing won't make livable."
Time for my third sigh of this discussion. "So, you want me to live in an insect infested shack while you put in new everything. If you think you can make me sleep on another mattress on the floor in something like that, you're beyond wrong!" I deign to hand the sheet over to Aya's outstretched hand after waiting a few pointed moments.
He shrugs after reading through everything. "If you can argue down the price a bit considering the work it sounds like we'll have to put into it. We can stay in a hotel until it's in any condition to be inhabited." So our mighty leader speaks. If he's set, end of story.
"Are we going to let people know we're back in business? You know which people I mean." Omi cocks his head to the side. He means the people who buy death from us. I'm sure they'd all be glad to hear that their champions of greed and success are back for another bout of life wrecking.
"After Aya heals up, we probably should." I receive another batch of rage in disguise as a pair of beautiful amethyst eyes in response to my statement.
"Who said anything about my needing to heal?"
"Youji and I have so far, Ken will as well if you give him a chance." Omi almost smirks, an unbearably adorable expression of mischief for him.
Aya growls and mutters under his breath. "Whatever you want is fine. Go buy the damned house." He rolls partially onto his other side, not really angry but unwilling to let things pass without a little bit of a sulk.
The Cheerful Duo bounce up and away to acquire their new dream home. I watch the door slam after them.
"They do sort of know that we're sleeping with each other." I tell Aya a bit balefully.
"And? That makes it an established relationship?" He looks back my way. For a moment I want to strike him, hit him in retaliation for all the crap I put up with for him, not expecting this new bit of rudeness for my troubles. He rolls over, trying to make it look like it's a painful move for him.
"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that." The words are stiff and mechanical, but he's trying to really mean them. He levers himself up into a sitting position, going against the long list of don't-dos that Omi left for him. He wants me to move up next to him so he doesn't feel like he's reaching across an entire room. I know the look in his eyes. I don't oblige. I don't readily comply with those I'm not in an 'established relationship' with.
"No. You shouldn't have said that." I agree evenly. "If you decided this was nothing more than a few fucks in a time of need I'd have appreciated hearing it privately instead of in front of Omi and Ken." I consider getting up and leaving him to stew in his own juices. I have nowhere else to go. No car, only one pair of clothes, no money. I settle for staring at the wall, ignoring him for all I'm worth.
If he'll just let it drop I'll forgive him in no time at all. I'm not good at staying angry at people, especially Aya. If he'll just leave me alone I'll force myself to see that he's right, even if he isn't and things will be fine again.
A rustling of covers and a hand on my shoulder, the touch partially masked by the blanket around my shoulders. When no reaction is forthcoming on my part, the hand becomes a pair of arms wrapped around my waist from behind, a chin resting on my shoulder.
"Did you want this to be the real thing?" He sounds surprised.
"No. Of course not.?" I try to keep the sarcasm from dripping off my voice in thick, viscous torrents.
Aya lets out a deep breath against my hair, carefully stretches out his leg, moving with the ginger care of the truly wary. At least he's going to attempt to take care of himself this time rather than totally denying all injury.
"You haven't exactly ever cultivated a reputation for seeking out long-term relationships with people. You like, what did you call it? 'A few fucks in a time of need'. I assumed that's what this was. You feeling unsettled and clingy after some bad things happened to you. Things have partially passed over and I'm assuming you'll be tiring of me in no time at all." He doesn't move, settling more weight onto my back if anything.
I explode, pushing him away, jumping to my feet, and throwing the blanket at him for lack of a better outlet of my anger. "Didn't we already have this talk? Several times over? I'm tired of fucking being alone! I don't want a quick, free fuck when I can't pick up someone better at a bar. I'm tired of living like that, some sort of bored wastrel. How many times do I have to tell you before you believe me?
I pause. "Unless you're trying for a blameless letdown because you're not interested in the slightest." I cross my arms. "I'm tired of being jerked around as well. Just spit it out. You want this to be a faded memory, I can make it so in a heartbeat, won't even effect your stupid fucking team-balance."
Aya blanches. "That's not what I'm saying either. I'm just making sure before I jump to conclusions. I'm much better with action planning then I am with words."
I count to ten, hold my breath; let it all go again. Time to exercise that forgiving nature of mine again. I dump myself down on the bed next to him, watching him, waiting for him to come up with more things to say.
"Would an apology do?" He glances over, handing my blanket back. I wrap it around my shoulders, shrug.
"I am sorry, if it helps. I shouldn't assume things. And this is as good as you're likely to get. I don't like apologizing." He ends on a stiff note, half defensive, half apprehensive. I almost smile. He's so screwed up; you've got to at least be entertained by that. I am amused by it, sometimes. When I'm not on the receiving end.
"It helps, a bit." I force a smile. "Hey, we're officially on our way to yet another new start. Let's not begin on bad terms with each other." He leans against my shoulder, issue forgotten for all appearances.
I run my words through my head again. 'I'm tired of being alone'. Just like Ken. Am I setting myself up to use yet another person? Is this going to be the same, using but not feeling guilty because he's doing the exact same? I sigh for a fourth time, sickening that I'm counting them at all. Why can't life ever be straightforward?
FINIS!
/pYup, this took some work, both times through! If you'd like to continue on with the sequel, you'll find it on my webpage: http://www.geocities.com/darkhunterfinatic . I'm re-editing the sequel and posting as I go along. Anyone left who still needs to e-mail me? Hehe! akainobaka@mchsi.com or darkhunter@ijustdontcare.com They're both real e-mail addresses! In your FACE!!! Can you deal with THAT!! -sprites away to act insane on her own time.
